


I wanted a revolution

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Carl is a good dad, Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Markus is a good son, Maybe - Freeform, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Revolution, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: "You taught me never to throw a game."





	I wanted a revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Angstmas everyone!
> 
> this is a special gift for my friend derpyphoenix who you can meet over in the [ Detroit: New ERA server ](https://discord.gg/c3vUxHY)for our winter's feast exchange. Happy holidays <3 come scream with us!
> 
> Here is Markus figuring out his life after winning a revolution but missing his dad. I think in cannon Carl actually dies a day before the revolution ends regardless, but I needed him alive (for a little while) so, eff cannon lmao
> 
> I didn't know what to title this so if you can think of a better title please let me know i need it! Cheers, guys!  
> <3Daisy

_Alarm Deactivated. Welcome home, Markus._

It’s strange being here again. The door swings open revealing the expansive entry way with the exotic zebra rug and other luxury items. Markus glances around almost timidly, his mismatching eyes taking everything in as if it were the first time.

He hasn’t come back since the beginning of the revolution, since he found his calling in Jericho, and came to see Carl one last time before throwing himself into this knowing that there was no guarantee he would ever come back.

His fight for the rights of his people was successful. He has friends, something he never thought would happen. He has North, and that’s something, he supposes. He’s experienced pain, joy, cold, and warmth. He’s experienced forgiveness and hope, and defeat, and victory.

He’s lived a lifetime away from here.

He takes the stairs two at a time just as William, Carl’s new caretaker, comes to the top of the stairs. “I’m glad you came, Markus,” he says softly.

“I-is he…?”

“He’s still awake. I just helped him back into bed. His recovery has been very slow. The doctors are reconfiguring his medication, but… I’m afraid that those attempts will be unsuccessful.”

Markus’s LED would be red now, if he still had it. He turns into the hallway and slips into Carl’s room.

“Carl?” he whispers.

“Markus!” Carl’s weathered face seems to light up even though the only light comes from the floor guide lamps on the ground below his bed and near the door. His voice sounds raspy and frail, and Markus hurries to his side just to shush him.

“Please rest,” he says quietly.

“Are you home now?” Carl asks.

Markus sighs. “I… am not sure,” he says honestly. “Carl, I… we did it. We freed all of Android kind. But now that we’re free, the real work must begin. Obtaining rights for all of us will be incredibly difficult but I can’t give up now.” Markus takes Carl’s hand and smiles a wan, wistful sort of smile. “You taught me to never throw a game.”

Carl nods, smiling too. “That’s right. If you can win, win, Markus. For all of them.”

“What about me?” Markus’s face falls. “Is it selfish that I want to stay with you?” he whispers.

Carl reaches up his hand, patting Markus’s face. “I haven’t got long now, boy.” Tears leak from the Android’s eyes and he clutches at the man’s hand on his face, shaking his head. “Whether you want to stay with me or not, I don’t think that choice is available for you.”

“Carl…”

“You were strong enough to lead an entire people to freedom,” Carl tells him. “You were smart enough to figure out ways to get the attention of humanity without shedding our blood. I’ve seen everything you’ve done, Markus. And I’m proud to have you as my son. I know that you will be strong enough to live a fulfilled life even after I can’t be with you.”

Markus wipes at his face with his sleeve. “I… don’t want to.”

Carl huffs a tired laugh. “That is just called being human, boy.”

Markus’s eyes water, but he manages to blink the fluid away before it falls onto his face. “Carl, I have never… I have never been able to tell you this, but…” he sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Carl smiles, his wrinkled eyelids falling closed. “You did not have to tell me. I know. And I love you too, my son.”

* * *

 

Connor is the one standing with him right now. It’s springtime now. The ice is melting out of the trees and dripping onto his jacket and mixing with the emotion on his face.

The stone is almost as tall as he is and reads:

 _Carl Manfred_  
_July 13, 1963 - November 12, 2038_  
_Beloved Father, Artist, and Visionary_  
  
_“I wanted to start a revolution,_  
_using art to build the sort of society I myself envisioned.”_  
_\--Yayoi Kusama_

Markus’s fingers trace the words of the quote, a tearful smile on his face. “You did it, Carl,” he says.

“Do you believe that?” Connor whispers.

“Believe what?”

“That Carl wanted this revolution to happen.”

Markus nods. “Carl always wanted me to know… things. Music, art, in all their forms. He taught me all the technical things there is to know about that but… but it wasn’t until the day I had to leave home that I understood it all. Suddenly, he was showing me to express feelings, almost before I knew what they were. I can’t help but think he wanted me to deviate. To be this… person.”

Connor smiles. “He saw a good person in you, then.”

Markus shrugs. “Carl was lonely. Leo… well, Leo and he were very rocky there, towards the end. Leo was addicted to red ice, and he was trying to get sober when Carl died. Besides his son, he didn’t have much contact with other humans. Only… only Androids. Only me.”

“Well, we were designed to integrate with humans.”

Markus gives a sardonic chuckle. “I’m not sure even humans were designed to integrate with humans.”

Connor chuckles. “I’m happy for you,” he says eventually.

“What?” Markus asks, confused.

“I am… happy for you. You had a father that taught you how to be a good son and a good man.”

Markus nods and tears well up in his eyes again. “This is one emotion that is not worth deviating for, I’ll tell you that. I never wanted to grieve for him, or to live without him. It would be better if I had stayed a machine than suffer like this.”

“Don’t say that,” Connor pleads. He places his hand on Markus’s arm, causing him to jolt and look up. Their eyes connect the same way that Connor’s hand does to his skin, warming the space underneath it as his skin recedes.

The accidental interface reveals Connor’s thoughts clearly. He’s thinking of the revolution, of his part and history in it… of Hank. He sees how Hank embraced him tightly, can smell the components that make up scotch and leather as if they were filling his own nasal sensors.

Unwittingly, Markus has shared many of his own memories. Playing chess, the day Carl taught him how to paint. Walking with him in the park, or in the city because he wanted to see the world, get inspiration for his paintings, or just get some fresh air. He remembers the feeling of his hands wrapped around the handles of the wheelchair, the sound of Carl’s voice as they had their dumb morning arguments, Carl pretending to resist his medication.

He can’t choke back his tears anymore as the torrent of memories send him to the ground, his fingers digging into the snow, grass, and mud at the foot of the enormous stone as he kneels in front of Carl’s headstone and feels his thirium pump cracking open, the pain and loss leaking out of him like the blue lifeblood that makes him function.

He cries for the loss of hundreds of people that were gunned down in his protests, he cries for hundreds that died in Jericho while the ship sunk. He cries for Carl, for the man that made him brave enough to face all of those things. He cries because he didn’t want to be the person thrust into these decisions, into telling fellow Androids that their freedom was worth their lives and the lives of others. He cries because he wants his human back to make this deep, cracking ache to go away. He cries because he knows that he won’t see Carl or those androids again, and the pain of it will never go away.

Connor kneels with him and holds him while he grieves.

* * *

 

Things change after that. Connor seeks him out timidly at first, but worrying over the depth of Markus’s grief, which he caught a glimpse of that day in the graveyard. They sit in silence at first.

Then they start communicating by interface, just… showing each other snapshots. Markus shows him Carl ranting about the quality of the paints in Chroma Paints, and how he ended up making Bellini’s his only supplier back in 2035.

Eventually, Connor starts choosing to show him recent, comedic moments between himself, Hank, and Sumo, Hank’s pet dog whom Connor loves dearly. Markus starts showing him funny moments too, and soon the two start to spend hours laughing, cracking up at the ridiculous moments until they can’t stand anymore.

It takes several weeks for Markus to start acting relatively normally again, but by the time winter is giving her last hurrah, Markus has become confident in his leadership again. During this time, his deep friendship and trust in the Deviant Hunter has grown deep and full of affection. Markus appreciates Connor’s companionship and his willingness to just sit and listen. He appreciates how diligent and task-minded Connor is, tirelessly working to keep him and the others safe in this very unstable aftermath of the revolution. And, though he keeps it a secret, he adores Connor’s clueless smiles and awkward interactions with the other Androids and human allies.

On the other hand, things with North have fallen apart. Carl’s death left him emotionally ravaged, and he has apologized profusely to her for how things ended between them. She still doesn’t understand why he was so deeply pained by the death of a human, but over time she’s seen how Hank and Connor get along and is starting to find some understanding for Markus’s pain. Slowly over the weeks and months, they’ve mended their respect for each other, growing a firm friendship even though they both silently acknowledge that it was a bad idea to get romantically involved.

Today, exactly five months after Carl’s death and five months and one day after the end of the revolution, Markus is standing in front of Carl’s headstone again. He clears away errant twigs or leaves and then just breathes.

“It’s beautiful out here,” he says. “They do a very good job at making things peaceful in this place. I hope that you’re finally getting rest.” He traces the words of the quote again, his finger’s sensors feeling the tiny rough grains at the edges of each letter. “I have another decision to make,” he whispers. “This is probably not quite as difficult as leading a revolution, but… well, you helped me get through that. I hope that somehow, you’ll help me get through this too.” He sighs. “The truth is, ever since I brought Connor here, he has been a closer companion to me than any of the others, even Josh or Simon. I… am grateful for him, his part in the revolution, and for his part in my life. I… am not sure how to proceed. I think I could really love him, Carl. With enough time, I could. But I don’t know if he feels the same. Our lives are so chaotic now, I’m not sure how he could want something like this. I don’t know what to do now.”

He lets his thoughts drift in silence for a while. He finds himself thinking about chess. He has taught Connor how to play and how to analyze the board, a skill which helps him actually improve on his existing pre-construction programs.

He thinks back to the first time Carl showed him about sacrificing key pieces in order to win the game, and how best to go about building strategies. Markus practiced for weeks, but always managed to lose until Carl pointed out, “if you’d have let me capture your knight, you would have had a checkmate in only two moves. Sometimes, Markus, making yourself vulnerable is the only way to win.”

Markus smiles, and, even though he is much happier now, he still sheds a tear or two. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispers.

Carl taught him a game, but Carl taught him life too. He’ll always be able to come here and remember their time together, fleeting though it was. It’s enough for him to finally move on and be happy, maybe even with Connor, the person who has held him up when he’s wanted to crumble.

Carl taught him how to win, and how to lose. Carl taught him how to be strong, but how to be vulnerable. Carl taught him everything he needs to know but above all, Carl taught him never to throw a game.

 


End file.
